


Sherlock Holmes (as seen by Mycroft Holmes)

by Musicandjason



Series: Character Development [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Brotherly Love, M/M, allusions to incest, character sketch, i'm still learning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-06
Updated: 2014-06-06
Packaged: 2018-02-03 14:26:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1747853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Musicandjason/pseuds/Musicandjason
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mycroft loves to study Sherlock, especially doing the simplest of things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sherlock Holmes (as seen by Mycroft Holmes)

**Author's Note:**

> this is another character development/sketch that was originally posted on my tumblr, but has been reposted here with a bit of editting and expansion. 
> 
> http://www.tumblr.com/blog/musicandjason

Mycroft had decided in a flight of foolishness that he had wanted to walk the six blocks from his office at Whitehall to the restaurant that he and his brother meet at every Thursday evening. To the casual passerby it may seem like they just sit at a extravagantly set table and talk about the week that passed in London, but to anyone who actually knew the Holmes brothers, it was clear that something very uncommon was afoot. Caring. Love. Affection. It was things that the two men only shared with each other, and only within the confines of this restaurant (which had been scouted for discretion months in advance), and their bedroom at Mycroft's upscale flat.   
  
Mycroft huffed breath from his frowning mouth as it began to lightly rain. He had forgotten his umbrella at the office, and was now regretting it. Luckily, he had remembered his overcoat, which shielded his bespoke Gieves & Hawkes suit from the native London weather. He was about 20 yards down the street from the restaurant when he stopped dead iin the middle of the sidewalk. He saw Sherlock get out of a boxy black taxi with all his casual grace and elegance that never ceased to hit Mycroft right in his heart.  
  
Once Sherlock was fully out of the taxi and standing straight, he shook out his gorgeous brown curls, tinged with the faintest blonde highlights onto his forehead and around his ears. Mycroft had loved ruffling those curls when Sherlock was a child, and now took delight in pulling on them when they were in the fits of passion that they were occasionally prone to taking part in. A curl that was slightly longer than the others skimmed his long eyelashes, which framed his magical eyes. Molly had once described looking into the youngest Holmes' eyes like being able to see into the galaxy, with gold flecks, and bits of green and blue. Mycroft tended to agree with her.

He walks up to his brother and they proceed inside, Sherlock removing his signature Belstaff coat, and hanging it on the coattree along with his blue scarf which was unwound carefully from around his beautiful, slender neck. The hollow of Sherlock's neck, with his veins and arteries corded tightly beneath his porcelain skin was in deep contrast to the beautiful purple shirt that Sherlock was wearing. Mycroft had grown up thinking that Sherlock had no idea how exquisite his body was, but when he wore that purple shirt, with the buttons that pulled just slightly at their button holes, he knew different. 

They talk softly over a menu that they both know front to back, mostly because of the frequency of their visits, and less to do with their idetic memories, with Mycroft focused of his brother's high cheekbones and slightly pink cheeks, while Sherlock passionately discusses a case that he is thinking about taking which would involve him shedding his fine black socks and matching black Louboutin's for marked up sneakers while he pretended to be a commoner. Sherlock chuckled softly, his soft pink lips twisting into a smirk. Never a smile, and always a smirk that told of knowing everything that was going on around him while everyone else floundered in ignorance. It was endearing to someone who also knew what was going on around them; someone who knew how to observe and not just see. 

This was how they spent their free time together, them against the world, jsut how they had been when they were children dressed up as pirates, trying to rule the world from a wooden ship that had been built in their backyard by a labourer that their Father had hired and worked mercilessly for weeks until it was completed. Frankly, not a lot had changed over the years, only the world had been slightly downsized to just Britain, and Mycroft was driving the boat now, instead of Sherlock. Neither minded the switch.


End file.
